


I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Flights of Fancy -R76 [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Mating Bites, Memories, Scars, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-07-30 01:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Reaper still dreams in shades of blues, dreams of haunting eyes and sky-coloured wings pressed against his. A blue that had been taken from him along with everything else, or so he had been led to believe. Sequel to 'Blue Jay'





	I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

_It’s at moments like this that he almost understands why people are so obsessed with Jack’s wings, breath catching as the light catches the feathers, turning the pale, blue wings the colour of a sun-soaked sky. Almost, because as beautiful as Jack’s wings are, and as rare as they are. In his eyes at least they pale in comparison to Jack himself, especially the wide, blue eyes that are watching him, always watching, still waiting for him to slip up and show that he’s just like the others. He would be offended, but he can see the fear in Jack’s eyes, and he’s held the other man through too many nightmares and sleepless nights, heard him whispering in a broken voice that he wished that he had been born a cursed ‘Blackbird.’ Instead, he moves forward, his own wings emerging so that when he reaches Jack, he can engulf him in both his arms and wings, shielding him from everything. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing Jack, letting their wings brush together and shivering at the sensation._

****

    Jack still remembers how Gabriel’s wings felt against his, warm arms wrapped around his waist and lips moving up the side of his neck, pressing kisses and soothing words to his skin. If he reached out and touched his chest he knew that he would still be able to feel the mark that he’d been given the night they had mated, it was faded, and there was a vivid red scar running through the middle of it, but it was still there. It wasn’t a comfort anymore, nor was that memory of nights spent in his mate’s arms, because that was all they were now. Memories. Memories of a life that had disappeared in flame and smoke, of a mate lost beneath the rubble of what had been their home, of a bond that had already been fraying under the strain of trying to save a world that had decided it didn’t need them anymore.

It was all gone.

Gabriel was gone.

And Jack…he wished that he had gone with him.

    He blinked, torn between relief that he couldn’t see his prison clearly and wishing that his sight was better, paranoia making it impossible for him to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time as his captors could appear at any time and from any direction. What little he could make out of the world around him was a blur of shapes in various shades of grey, the clearest was the bars, painted black and formed of the strongest metal the cage rose around him, tapering above him at a point that he couldn’t even make out from his slumped position on the ground. He knew that if he had the energy to move, he would be able to pace for seven steps in every direction before hitting the bars, and he had long since discovered that even with the SEP enhancements still running strong in his blood he couldn’t even put a dent in the metal. It was a cage built with him in mind, and more than once he wondered why? What was the point of all this? He had no worth anymore, he was no longer Strike Commander, and Overwatch was long gone and his wings…

    As much as he had hated them, his fingers still trembled as he reached behind him to feel what remained of his once magnificent wings. He had no idea if they were still the same shade of blue that had drawn eyes wherever he went, but he knew that they were broken, useless. He couldn’t retract them anymore, and the slightest movement sent pain lancing down his back and beneath his fingers he could feel tattered, scraggly feathers and a low whine slipped free. Part of it had been neglect on his part. Without Gabriel, there to reassure him that he was more than those blue wings he had fallen back into loathing them, and reduced to living a life on the run there had been little chance for him to let them out and care for them. It had been that neglect that had led to his capture. He had got himself in too deep, injured and disarmed he had finally unfurled them in the hopes of escaping and regrouping, but his wings had failed him, unable to bear his weight after the years of disuse.

     He could still remember with vivid clarity the moment he had slammed into the ground, the fall stunning him and leaving him unable to react as Talon had descended on him. He shivered feeling the echo of nets tightening around him, of foreign fingers combing through his feathers, his stomach churning as he remembered how he had been helpless as they had bundled him up, already discussing how much he would be worth with wings like that. Discussing him like he was a rare commodity ready to be traded rather than a person, and that had been before they had realised who he really was. Or rather who he had been…

    He almost wished that they hadn’t realised and that he had just been sold off. What had followed that discovery had been endless days, weeks maybe even months, it had been a long time since he had seen daylight let alone a clock and he had no idea how long he had been a prisoner. His gaze wandered to the hazy outline of the bars, lips drawing up in a disgusted snarl. He wasn’t a prisoner. He was a pet, a caged bird who had to rely on its masters for everything. And they didn’t let him forget it. Every scrap of food, every drink or shower had to be earned. In the beginning, it had been information. About Overwatch, about his agents, about Gabriel. He had gone hungry a lot back then, filth building up on his body, while his throat had felt like he’d never touched water.

   It had taken him a long time to break. Hours and hours of questioning, of pain, his body which had already been a patchwork of scars after the explosion at Zurich had been ripped apart and roughly patched back together. If he reached lower, something he rarely did, he knew that he would find metal. Rough metal, scrap metal. They wouldn’t give him anything better, knowing that he would use it against them. He had shattered then, but he hadn’t broken. Not when he lost one leg, not when he lost the second, his voice ragged from the pain of both the loss and the replacement, cursing them between screams and whimpers, but telling them nothing.

     Then they had targeted his wings. What had been a commodity and offering him some form of protection had been stripped from him, and he shuddered, trying to curl his wings closer as though to protect them. Hissing as he was reminded why that was a bad idea, not that it stopped him, gripping the feathers as he remembered how they had pinned him down, trapping him against the ground as they hacked and slashed at his feathers. He had felt himself splintering, known that he wasn’t going to last long, bucking against them and crying out as hands that weren’t Gabriel’s had torn his wings apart an. Then they had touched his mark, fire dancing over his skin as they slashed through it and he had broken there and then, falling apart on the floor of his prison. Screaming. Words escaping in heaving sobs. Secrets. Names. Memories. Spilling from his lips in an endless stream.

    It still haunted him what he might have said that day. How much he might have given away because while most of it would have been useless with the disbandment of Overwatch, there was still information that could be used to hurt former agents and the people that Overwatch had been trying to protect. Information that had brought him freedom from pain, but not from his prison.

    It had been a long time since they had last laid a finger on him, his wounds long since healed although the pain lingered especially in his wings, fresh scars crisscrossing his body and he was glad that he couldn’t see well enough to see the extent of the damage. Gabriel wouldn’t be able to call him ‘beautiful’ now. Nowadays when they did come to see him there was never any questions, just demands for him to beg if he wanted to be fed or cleaned. Some days he refused, just wanting it all to end although it never lasted long because there was still a stubborn spark that clung to life, other days it didn’t matter what he said or how much he pleaded, they just wanted the words and would walk away, leaving him starving and filthy in his cage.

   He wished that they would just stay away because then there would be no choice, no way for him to cling to this pathetic excuse of an existence.

_He would get to see Gabriel again._

****

    Reaper still dreamt in shades of blue. Everywhere he went he was haunted by sky blue eyes that seemed to be constantly seeking for something, demanding something that he no longer knew how to give, chased by the memory of pale blue feathers that shivered and danced just out of his reach. Blue. Even the nights when the ghost of Zurich reared its head in his dreams, all he could see was blue, always just out of reach and when he woke it was always to find his arm outstretched, as though if he reached just a little further, he would be able to grasp it. It was in those moments that he mourned the blue, the anger slow to rise, the hatred buried beneath a sense of loss that was powerful enough to steal his breath away and leave him grasping and clawing at the mark on his chest. _Jack’s mark._

    Jack. Jack who had died with him that day in Zurich, left behind when Gabriel had crawled from the wreckage a shadow of his former self.

    Eventually, though those feelings of grief would fade, replaced by visions of stormy blue eyes and a blue-clothed back striding away from him, harsh words and misunderstandings hanging in the air between them as he watched the blue move away. In their place came anger and what he told himself was hatred because it was easier than facing the reason why he could never bring himself to destroy the mark or why he still dreamt in shades of blue. Why he would find himself turning now and then when he caught a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye, reaching for it before he realised what he was doing.

_Jack. Why can’t I forget you?_

**

    Reaper felt his lip curl with disgust as he moved through the base, noting how even the agents who had worked with him numerous times still shied away from him. Cowards. He knew that at least part of it was due to the dusky black wings that trailed behind him, the soft white destroyed by fire and smoke, transforming him into the one thing that Jack had wished to be. A Blackbird. He wondered what Jack would think of him now if he would still be willing to be embraced and shielded by his wings and promptly snorted, how long had it been since Jack had come to him willingly. The idiot had pushed him away, pushed himself to his limits and left them both to fall. His wings shivered, reflecting his anger and his longing to wrap them around Jack once more and he saw more of the agents backing away, and he had to fight the urge to snap at them.

    Soon, soon he would be free of them, and then he would really give them a reason to fear him, but for now, they were useful, and so he reigned in his temper and drew his wings in closer. _Soon,_ he promised himself as he turned and headed towards the training rooms, knowing that if he didn’t let off some steam then soon would come a lot quicker than any of them wanted.

    As soon as he was free of frightened eyes, he shifted, letting his body fall apart and drifting along the corridor faster than his own two feet could carry him. He didn’t like being in this form, didn’t like losing the comforting weight of his wings at his back or what humanity he had left to cling to, but at least like this, he wouldn’t be interrupted as so far only Sombra and Widowmaker seemed willing to approach him in this form. Even the council were reluctant to interact with this side of him, something he had used to his advantage more than once when meetings were growing tedious or straying to topics that would have forced him to take action.

   Normally his awareness of the world faded a little after a couple of minutes in this form, the corridors becoming a greyish blur of indistinct shapes and sounds were reduced to distant annoyances. Today, maybe because his night had been punctuated by a stream of nightmarish recollections of Zurich and the events that had led up to it, he was more alert, and he found himself faltering as he caught a flicker of blue out of the corner of his eye. Blue. There was no colour when he was in this form, and yet when he turned to look all he could see was the blue of the feather one of the agents was twirling in their fingers, and for a moment his world narrowed now to that.

“You shouldn’t have touched his wings.” The feather was still distracting him, but Reaper forced himself to focus, retreating around the corner as he felt his body beginning to solidify beneath him. Blue wings were rare, and he had never seen anyone apart from Jack with feathers that colour and he told himself that was why he was listening, some strange sentimentality leaving him frozen in place. “What is he worth now?” _Worth?_ He scoffed at that, but there was an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, remembering all the times he had heard people whispering that about Jack when they had thought that he wasn’t listening.

 _Beautiful._ He remembered holding Jack close on the days when his partner had caught the careless whispers and seen the greedy looks aimed at his wings, remembering how he had shielded him from the world with his own wings, and he felt his wings shiver behind him. _Such a beautiful blue._

“We’ll still get a small fortune for him. And it worked, didn’t it?”

“For all the good that information did us.” Reaper frowned at that, something stirring at the back of his mind. There had been a sudden rush of information a couple of months ago, details that had not only enabled him to infiltrate Gibraltar although that mission had been a failure thanks to Winston, but had also led him to the doorstep of several agents that hadn’t been in Athena’s files. He had demanded to know where the information had come from, hoping to access the source himself, but they had refused to tell him, and he had let it slide. _Was that a mistake?_ What information had they been expecting to find, if they thought that what they’d received was useless? There were very few people still alive who had that level of information on Overwatch, information that went above his level and as he peered around the corner, he found his gaze returning to the feather.

_It couldn’t be._

_Blue._

_Jack...?_

****

_Gabriel is staring at him, and for a moment Jack fears that his attention is focused on his wings, on the cursed blue that follows him everywhere. It’s a fear that never goes away, and he hates it, because he knows even before Gabriel smiles, soft and warm, gaze riveted on his face that the man in front of him isn’t like the rest. He doesn’t see the Blue Jay. He sees Jack, and that is more priceless than anything Jack has ever received before, and he makes no move to escape when Gabriel steps forwards, arms and wings moving to embrace him, to shield him from the world. “Beautiful.” Its murmured, barely audible against his lips followed by a kiss and he knows that Gabriel isn’t talking about the blue._

    There was blue of a different kind when Jack jerked awake with a soft cry, feeling the tears on his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but it had been a welcome escape from the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach and his own dark thoughts, at least until Gabriel had shown up. He tried to ignore the way his hands trembled as he reached up to brush away the tears, telling himself it was exhaustion and hunger and that it had nothing to do with the hollow feeling that had spread the moment he had woken and realised that Gabriel wasn’t there. He wasn’t very good at lying to himself, his hand dropping to rest against his mark.

    He wasn’t sure how long he had been sat there, hand resting over the mark, memories bubbling up despite his best intentions. _Show me, Jack,_ it had always been the gentlest demand he had ever had, remembering all the times his wings had been wrenched out against his wishes, strange fingers stroking through the feathers as though they owned them. Gabriel had always asked, always waited. _You are more than your wings,_ Gabriel had whispered that to him over, and over the night he had received his promotion, Jack convinced that his wings were the only reason he had become Strike Commander. _Touch him again, and I’ll kill you,_ Gabriel had been the only one to step in and stop people reaching for his wings, the anger on his face that day had been a sight to behold and yet Jack had never felt safer.

“…stop.” He didn’t want to remember, he didn’t want to think about what he had lost because of his own stubbornness. His blindness. He snorted, unable to miss the irony that he had become so lost in the blue of his uniform that he had lost everything. Whatever spark of amusement he might have felt died swiftly when he heard the bolts on the door being drawn back, and he immediately shrank back against the bars of his cage, biting down on his lip to hold back a whimper as he wrapped his wings around himself as best he could. A flimsy shield, but it was all he had as the heavy metal door creaked open, and a dark figure stepped inside.

**

_What was he doing?_

    Reaper had asked himself that a dozen times since he had slipped down into the bottom levels of the base, using his wraith form to slip past guards and the security cameras although it would be a flimsy defence of Sombra decided to look at the footage. There was no reason for him to be hiding, and yet something told him that it was important. _What is he worth now?_ The question echoed in his ears once more, and his stomach twisted unpleasantly, made worse by the discussion that had followed, and it had taken every modicum of self-control he had not to tear them apart as he heard them discussing the market for blue feathers and their unfortunate prisoner. A prisoner they had kept from him. A prisoner they had reduced to the value of their wings. A snarl slipped free, fanned by the memory of Jack’s shivering frame pressed against his one night when the younger man had heard some of their men discussing just that, and he sped up.

   It couldn’t be Jack. It couldn’t, and yet the thought of leaving even a stranger in this situation left him feeling sick, haunting blue eyes chasing him onwards. And he had to be sure…

   He had ignored the first few corridors of cells, knowing the prisoners there were of little value. Gang members who had got a little too ambitious, Talon agents who had tried to betray them, political prisoners that would later be used to further Talon’s cause or his. He rarely ventured beyond those areas, wanting little to do with the torture that he knew happened on those levels. His own methods back in Blackwatch might have left a lot to be desired, but Talon took that to a whole new level, and he refused to sully his hands, he would deal out death, but torture left a foul taste in his mouth.

    There was no escaping it now as he moved deeper, peering through doors, keeping to the shadows although there were few guards down on this level. He made a note of those hovering close to death, their souls a fluttering crimson at the edge of his vision, calling to him like a siren song and more than once he found himself faltering, hunger gnawing at him. But there was no blue, so he pressed on, speeding up as an urgency that he didn’t fully understand urged him onwards.

    He nearly bypassed the next room as it seemed empty at first glance, only to pause as he caught a flutter of blue in the far corner of the room. _Blue. Jack…_ He was clawing at the door before he realised what he was doing, nanites shifting and forming sharp talons that did away with the lock with a sharp slash and then he was fumbling, drawing back the heavy bolts. _It’s not him. It can’t be him._ It was a mantra screaming in the back of his mind as he opened the door and stepped inside, coming to a halt at the sight that met his eyes.

It was a cage.

_He had been twelve when he and his sisters had finally convinced his mother to let them have a pet, a little scraggly parakeet that had been sat in the window of the local pet shop for weeks now. It had never feathered properly, but there had been something about the blue and white feathers that had entranced him, and in short order, Skye had taken up residence in his bedroom. He had done chores for days, helped the neighbours, run himself ragged with a paper round at the crack of dawn just so that he could buy a bigger cage so that she could fly properly._

    He blinked at the memory, one that he hadn’t let himself think about for years because thinking of his family hurt, a burning, sickening ache that he could never escape. He could remember telling Jack that tale once, the two of them exchanging memories as they waited for extraction after a particularly taxing mission and he could still remember the strange, almost wistful expression on Jack’s expression. _I wish we’d known each other back then. I wish I could have been that bird._ That had been before he had realised the true extent of the restrictions Jack had grown up under, yet he had never forgotten that wistful expression or the whispered words that he knew he hadn’t been meant to hear. _You would have let me fly free._

    There was a rustling noise and a quiet whimper that he almost missed over the rushing noise filling his ears, and it took him a moment to realise that the cage wasn’t empty, that he hadn’t imagined the blue. It was nothing like the blue he remembered, the colour of the summer sky over golden cornfields. Instead, it was a dusty, faded colour but still unmistakably blue. For a moment he was frozen, unaware of the hand that had slipped to the mark on his chest. _It isn’t him. It can’t be him._ Somehow it wasn’t so convincing now. Even though he had scoured those ruins for any sign that Jack could have survived. Even though he had returned every year to the memorial they had erected for his mate, and it took him a few minutes to convince himself to step forward, steps heavy, hesitant in a way that he hadn’t been for years.

It isn’t him.

“Jack,” the name slipped out, heavy and foreign sounding after all this time and he faltered, cursing under his breath. _What was he doing?_ What he hadn’t expected was for the cowering figure hidden behind dusty blue to stiffen at the name, for that single whisper to draw forth a single, heartbroken noise. Reaper was already shaking his head, claws digging into his chest as the figure slowly lifted his head, revealing a face that he had never thought he would see again.

“No.” _No. NO!_ He had never been good at lying to himself and now was no different. The man in front of him was a ghost of the man he had known, the features that he had once known better than he knew himself were changed, scarred by time and injury, the eyes that haunted his memories were changed, a pale blue that seemed to look through him. He was moving forward even as everything screamed at him to leave, telling him that he didn’t want to see, wings shifting restlessly behind him as he glimpsed metal in place of pale skin, framed by vivid red.

_What did they do to you?_

   Yet that paled in comparison to what had been done to his wings, and Reaper…Gabriel found himself unable to move forward anymore, stomach twisting as he took in the mangled remains of the wings that he remembered embracing in a different life. _What is he worth now?_ He felt sick, remembering the blue feather the agent had been playing with. It had been a pristine blue, nothing like the feathers in front of him now and he wished that he had torn them apart there and then, especially when he realised that Jack was shrinking back, huddling in on himself, face contorting with pain as he wrapped his wings around him. _Jack, no…_

     He forced himself to move forward, just a few steps so that he could crouch in front of the bars, wanting nothing than to rip them apart. To let Jack fly free. No, his eyes trailed over the ruined wings once more, grief breaking through the anger as he realised that Jack wouldn’t fly ever again, not even Angela would be able to fix damage like this, and his voice caught in his throat. _You would have let me fly free,_ Jack’s words echoed through his mind, taunting him, another failure to add to the list.

“I won’t beg…not this time.”

     Jack’s voice was nothing like he remembered, a hoarse, broken sound that hurt to hear. A voice that spoke of pain and suffering, but it was the words that Gabriel focused on. It wasn’t stubbornness or pride, but defeat. Jack was giving in. No, Jack had already given in, broken, shattered beneath what had been done to him because Gabriel had already seen the proof of that. His heart aching as he realised that the information that had let him move forward with his plans had come from this, anger spiking as he realised that Talon had known…they had known who their prisoner was, known what they had been to one another, and it was that surge of anger that let him force his voice to work. “Jack?” He had always known that his voice had changed, no longer recognisable, but he had never felt it as strongly as he did then when Jack stared at him without so much as a hint of recognition, and it hurt. “Mi Sol?”

    At first, he thought that Jack hadn’t heard him, because there was no reaction and he knew that no matter what had been done to him Jack wouldn’t have forgotten the nickname. The endearment that Gabriel had first whispered that night in SEP when Jack had very nearly joined the ranks of those who had died during the process and become something private and precious between them in a world that was falling apart around them. “No.” He almost missed the first quiet whisper, but there was no missing the way that Jack had tensed, his hands grasping handfuls of feathers despite the pain it was obviously causing him. “No! Stop!” He was starting to rock, seemingly forgetting about Gabriel as he began to slam his head against the bars. “Stop! I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to remember.” His voice was shaking, breaking, the pain so tangible that Gabriel could practically taste it.

    He didn’t remember moving, didn’t remember commanding the nanites to solidify on his hands, the metal bars of the cage falling apart beneath the fury of his attack, Jack flinching at the sound of metal hitting the ground, still pleading for it all to stop, for the memories to leave him alone. He didn’t remember crossing the cage or crouching in front of Jack, the world only coming back into focus as he felt trembling wings under his, blue filling his world as he blinked and realised that he was in front of Jack, wings already reaching out to embrace his mate. _I’m here. You’re safe. I love you._ The words were there on the tip of his tongue, but they wouldn’t come. Instead, he reached out, nanites melting away as he pulled Jack into his arms.

It wasn’t the same.

     The wings beneath his quivered and shook, and he knew that even the gentle touch had to be causing him great pain, the skin beneath his searching fingers was a tapestry of scars and metal, a map that he no longer knew and Jack wasn’t melting into him, wasn’t reaching back. Instead, he was still rocking back and forth, still pleading with the memories to leave him alone, for Gabriel to leave him alone. “I did that once before.” As much as he had hidden behind his anger, his hatred, he had always known that the blame was shared between them, that he had pushed Jack away just as much as Jack had pushed him away…that he had let himself be pushed away because it was easier. He wasn’t going to do that this time, tightening his hold, drawing Jack closer and letting one hand move to the mark on Jack’s chest. His mark. Their mark. “Never again.”

    There was no reply, but he hadn’t been expecting one, not really. It wouldn’t be that simple, not when Jack was shivering and trembling under his touch, milky blue eyes focused on some distant point, once proud wings laying in tatters against his. Not when Jack was still pleading with him to stop, for the memories to stop, broken apologies slipping in amongst the whispered words. _Sorry I broke. Sorry I pushed you away. Sorry that it’s too late._ Gabriel couldn’t shush him, knew that the apologies were needed on both sides although his would wait until Jack was ready to hear them if he ever was. Instead, he absorbed them all and held on tight just as he should have back then. “I forgive you,” he murmured, not the words he wanted to say, especially when he wasn’t sure that he even had a right to say that, but wanting to say something to ease the terrible pain in Jack’s voice. “I forgive you.”

 


End file.
